


Feel So Alive

by RetroactiveCon



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: For a guy who disdains drugs, it’s shamefully easy to get Kyle high. Now, admittedly, he was probably well on his way from secondhand smoke alone, but the moment Jimmy kissed smoke into his mouth, he stopped protesting.
Relationships: Kyle Bishop/Jimmy Collins
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	Feel So Alive

For a guy who disdains drugs, it’s shamefully easy to get Kyle high. Now, admittedly, he was probably well on his way from secondhand smoke alone, but the moment Jimmy kissed smoke into his mouth, he stopped protesting. Now he’s sprawled with his head in Jimmy’s lap, one hand toying with the edge of Jimmy’s flannel and the other waving aimlessly in the air. 

“Doin’ okay, buddy?” Jimmy asks. 

Kyle grins. He looks good like this, the ever-present tension gone from his shoulders and an easy, blissful smile on his face. Jimmy wants to kiss him, so he takes another hit and closes his lips to hold in the smoke. Kyle meets him halfway, lips parting eagerly, and if this was a real kiss Jimmy would slip him tongue just to listen to him whimper. Then they’re breaking apart and he’s lost his chance. 

“Your eyes look like cat eyes,” Kyle pronounces. Smoke slips between his lips with every word, and he blows the last remnants up at Jimmy. “I don’t know why, they just do.”

Jimmy laughs. “You’re one to talk. You have the biggest fuckin’ doll eyes I’ve ever seen.” He knows Kyle’s eyes are blue, but half the time they look black for how wide his pupils are. He needs glasses, he’s explained, but he can’t be bothered and his vision isn’t that bad. Whatever the reason, they’re captivating.

Kyle lets out an amused huff and flops back into Jimmy’s lap. “I wanna take off my sweater,” he decides. “I’m hot.”

Unwisely, Jimmy replies, “Yeah, you are.”

If Kyle was sober, this would have prompted rambling and panic. Since he’s high, he simply smiles, clambers to his feet, and squirms out of his pullover. He’s not wearing a shirt underneath. Jimmy reaches out, catches him around the waist, and yanks him back down into his lap. 

(He just crossed a line. In some dim, marijuana-muddled corner of his brain, he realizes that he’s crossed a line he can’t un-cross. Right now, with Kyle in front of him, half-naked and begging to be kissed, he can’t be bothered to worry.) 

“You know how pretty you are?” Jimmy leans in so close that their noses brush together. Kyle’s big doll eyes flutter and reopen locked on Jimmy’s lips. “I don’t think you do. All draped over my lap, high on my kisses and no idea how much I wanna kiss you again, no smoke, no nothing…”

Kyle taps a finger against his own lips. “I know you keep looking at me,” he murmurs. “I just thought you were… _oh_ …”

Jimmy cups a hand against Kyle’s cheek and draws him into a kiss. He melts into it, his mouth falling open and his hands tangling in Jimmy’s hair. Jimmy kisses him breathless, breaks away long enough to draw in a greedy gulp of air, and kisses him again. 

“Off,” Kyle mutters, pushing at Jimmy’s flannel. “Take it off.” 

“Bossy,” Jimmy scolds, but lets him push. His flannel catches against the back of the sofa; his shirt gets tossed over Kyle’s shoulder to land unceremoniously on the piano. Before it lands, Kyle is all over him, skimming his hands up and down as though he can’t get enough of the warmth of Jimmy’s skin.

“This is…” Jimmy sucks a bruise into the skin of Kyle’s neck. He wants everyone to know that Kyle is his—that somehow, miraculously, he won the heart of his sweet best friend and he doesn’t intend to share. “…a little-known variant of ‘high as fuck,’ where instead we’re ‘high and about to fuck.’” 

Kyle pulls back, hazy-eyed and flushed, and makes a valiant attempt to focus. “But you don’t…”

Jimmy pulls him into another kiss. “I do, Ky. God, I do.” 

It’s too much work to move to a bed, although Kyle’s is barely four steps away. Instead, Jimmy flips them around so they’re lying flat on the sofa, Kyle pinned underneath him. They’ve been in similar positions before—Jimmy likes to roughhouse, always has, and he’s often wound up pinning Kyle after a playful tussle—but never like this. Never with Kyle opening his mouth to Jimmy’s kisses, hot and eager and dirty, or with his legs wrapping tight around Jimmy’s waist. It’s the most natural thing in the world to grind down against him, finding a rhythm that matches the kiss. 

“Why were we not doing this before?” he mumbles, nipping at Kyle’s pulse. Kyle grabs at his shoulders, his blunt nails scraping Jimmy’s skin. 

“You weren’t interested.” His words trail into a long, low moan. Jimmy’s hips stutter out of rhythm. He loves it when his partners make noise, and Kyle can’t seem to stop himself. 

“Wasn’t interested,” Jimmy snorts. “I was pretty fuckin’ interested. You’re just way too good for me, Ky.” 

Kyle peers up at him, his pretty doll eyes gone almost completely black. “Then why weren’t we doing this before?” he parrots, yanking Jimmy into a hot, sloppy kiss. 

Kyle finishes first, so hair-trigger sensitive that a bite to his throat is enough to set him off. Jimmy keeps moving, chasing his orgasm against Kyle’s warm thigh. He feels fifteen again, too impatient to undress, too inexperienced to do more than rub against each other, so needy that he can’t go two seconds without another kiss. Kyle swallows his desperate moans when he comes all over himself and holds him close when he’s finished. 

“Whoa,” Jimmy mumbles. The world rocks gently around him, a cross between a carousel and an ocean wave. He can’t tell what’s the high and what’s the afterglow, and it’s quite possibly the best thing he’s ever felt.

Kyle shifts beneath him like he’s considering getting up but relaxes back into the cushions with a little blissful sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

Jimmy snorts. “That’d be the drugs.” 

“Can’t believe I let you get me high,” he laments, although his tone is mostly amused. 

“Oh, so it’s the drugs you can’t believe, not the sex?” Jimmy lifts his head and shoots him a bewildered glance. Kyle meets his gaze, dreamy-eyed and smiling. 

“I know which one I’ll regret tomorrow, and I’m willing to bet it’s not the same as you.”

“You kidding?” Jimmy burrows his face back into the crook of Kyle’s neck. His nose nudges the angle of Kyle’s jaw. “You know me. No regrets.” 

Kyle runs his fingers through Jimmy’s hair. He’s clumsy enough to pull a little, but Jimmy doesn’t feel any pain. “No regrets,” he echoes, sounding perfectly at peace.


End file.
